‘You can’t leave it there,’ said a well-meaning soul walking past.
‘Watch,’ I said, locking the doors. ‘It’s an emergency.’
‘They’ll tow it away,’ he said.
Let them, I thought. I wasn’t going to waste time finding a parking meter.
Oh God, please let Marina be OK. I hadn’t prayed since I was a child but I did so now.
Please God, let Marina be all right.
I ran into the Accident and Emergency Department and found a line of six people at the reception desk.
I grabbed a passing nurse. ‘Please,’ I said, ‘where’s Marina van der Meer?’
‘Is she a patient?’ asked the nurse in an east European accent.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘She was on her way here from Lincoln’s Inn Fields, by ambulance.’
‘Ambulance cases come in over there,’ she said, pointing over her shoulder.
‘Thanks.’ I ran in the direction she had indicated, towards some closed double doors.
My progress was blocked by a large young man in a navy blue jersey. ‘Hospital Security’ was written on each shoulder.
‘Yes, sir,’ he said, ‘can I help you?’
‘Marina van der Meer?’ I said, trying to get past him.
He sidestepped to block my way. ‘No,’ he said, ‘my name’s Tony. Now what’s yours?’
I looked at his face. He wasn’t exactly smiling.
‘Look,’ I said, ‘I’m trying to find Marina van der Meer. She was being brought here by ambulance.’
‘An emergency?’ he asked.
‘Yes, yes,’ I said, ‘she’s been shot.’
‘Where?’ he asked.
‘In the leg.’
‘No, where was she shot?’
‘In the leg,’ I said again.
‘No,’ he repeated, ‘where in London was she shot?’
‘Lincoln’s Inn Fields,’ I said. What on earth does it matter? I thought.
‘She may have gone to Guy’s,’ he said.
‘The ambulance men said they were bringing her here.’
‘You just wait here a moment, Mr… what did you say your name was?’
‘Halley,’ I said. ‘Sid Halley.’
‘You just wait here a moment and I’ll see. Members of the public aren’t allowed in this section — unless they come by ambulance, of course.’ He almost laughed. I didn’t.
He disappeared through the double doors and let them swing back together. I pushed one open and looked through. There was not much to see. The corridor stretched ahead for about ten yards and met another corridor in a T-junction. The walls were painted in two tones, the upper half cream and the lower blue. Perversely, it reminded me of the corridors in my primary school in Liverpool.
Tony, the friendly security guard, reappeared from the left and strode towards me. ‘No one of that name has been admitted,’ he said.
There was a clatter behind him and a trolley surrounded by medical staff was wheeled quickly by from right to left. I only had a glimpse of the person on it and I couldn’t tell if it was Marina. Then a dazed-looking Rosie came into view.
‘Rosie,’ I shouted. She didn’t hear.
Tony, the guard, started to say something but I pushed past him and ran down the corridor.
‘Oi!’ he shouted. ‘You can’t go in there.’
But I had already turned the corner.
‘Rosie,’ I shouted again.
She turned. ‘Oh Sid, thank God you’re here!’ She was crying and seemed to be in a state of near- collapse.
‘Where’s Marina?’ I asked urgently.
‘In there,’ she said, looking at some doors on the right.
There was a glass circular window and, with trepidation, I looked through.
Marina lay very still on a trolley with about six people rushIng around her. There were two bags of blood on poles with plastic tubes running to needles on the backs of each of her hands. I could see a pool of blood down near the foot of the trolley — it was as though the blood was going straight through her.
‘What are you two doing here?’ asked a voice.
I turned to see a stern-looking nurse in a blue uniform with what appeared to be a green dishcloth on her head.
‘You’ll have to go back to the waiting room,’ she said.
‘But that’s Marina in there,’ I said, turning back to the window. If anything, the activity had intensified. One of the staff was putting a tube down her throat. Her face looked horribly grey.
‘I don’t care if it’s the Queen of Sheba,’ said the nurse. ‘You can’t stay here. You’ll be in the way.’ She mellowed. ‘Come on, I’ll show you where you can wait. You’ll be told what’s happening as soon as we know.’
Rosie and I allowed ourselves to be taken by the arms and led down the corridor. We went round several corners and were shown into a room with ‘Family Waiting Room’ painted on the door.
‘Now stay here and someone will be along to see you.’
I mumbled ‘thank you’ but seemed to have lost control of my face. All I could see was the image of Marina so helpless and vulnerable on that trolley. ‘Please God, let her live.’
I sat down heavily on one of the chairs. I’d again lost control of my legs, too.
‘I’ll send someone in with a cup of tea,’ said the nurse. ‘Now, wait here.’
I nodded. I don’t think I could have moved even if I had wanted to. All I could think about was whether Marina was going to be all right. Rosie sat with her head in her hands. She had been awfully close to the action both on the pavement and in the ambulance.
After a few minutes a kindly woman in an apron brought us a cup of tea each. Strong, full of milk and with at least two sugars, just as I didn’t take it. Delicious.
‘What happened?’ I finally said to Rosie.
She looked up at me. Her eyes were red from crying and she had a hangdog expression.
‘I’m so sorry, Sid,’ she said. ‘We only went outside for a bit of air.’
‘It’s all right, Rosie. It wasn’t your fault.’
But I could see that she thought it was.
‘Tell me what happened.’
‘It was all so fast,’ she said. ‘We were going to walk once round the square, but had gone only a few yards when a motorcyclist drew up and sat there on his machine looking at a map. He beckoned us over to him, pointing at the map. I couldn’t hear what he said due to the noise of the engine. Marina went across the pavement to him and he just shot her. I think the gun was under the map.’
‘Could you describe the motorcyclist?’ I asked her. ‘Would you be able to identify him again?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ she replied slowly. He was wearing a crash helmet — you know, one of those ones that covers the whole face. That’s partly why I couldn’t hear what he said.’
‘How about the motorbike?’ I asked.
‘It was just… just a motorbike,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what type.’
She paused and I could tell she was replaying the scene in her mind.
‘At first I didn’t realise she had been shot. I mean, I didn’t hear a gunshot or anything. Marina doubled up and grabbed her knee and the motorcycle roared away. Then there was all the blood. It literally spurted out of her leg all over the place.’
I looked at her dark trousers and I could see that they were covered in Marina’s blood.
‘I did my best to stop it and screamed for someone to help. It seemed ages before the Institute’s security men ran out. They called the ambulance but that took ages to arrive, too.’
The door into the waiting room opened and I jumped up.
‘Are you with the girl that’s been shot?’ asked the head that appeared.
